


Echo(lalia)

by innocent_until_proven_geeky



Series: Autistic Echo [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Character(s), Autistic Echo, Episode: s3e1 Clone Cadets, Gen, Mentions of Eugenics, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Sort of? - Freeform, clone-centric, echo POV, i don't know what qualifies as angst i'm just here man, mentions of decommissioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26872273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innocent_until_proven_geeky/pseuds/innocent_until_proven_geeky
Summary: “Echolaliais the unsolicited repetition of vocalizations made by another person (when repeated by the same person, it is called palilalia).  In its profound form it is automatic and effortless.”
Relationships: CT-00-2010 | Droidbait & CT-21-0408 | Echo, CT-21-0408 | Echo & CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555, CT-21-0408 | Echo & CT-4040 | Cutup, CT-21-0408 | Echo & CT-782 | Hevy, CT-21-0408 | Echo & Domino Squad
Series: Autistic Echo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961929
Comments: 12
Kudos: 59





	Echo(lalia)

CT-21-0408 knows he’s different from his brothers.

He’s known for a long time, but never been quite able to place it.

He knows because, where his brothers complain about how boring rations on Kamino can get, he revels in the _sameness_ of the texture and the flavor.

He knows because his brothers don’t think the lights in the barracks are too bright. They don’t think that the range gets too loud, or that the blacks are scratchy. (He’s asked.)

He knows because they don’t get headaches when the lights get too loud. (He’s pretty sure they can’t hear the lights, actually.)

He knows because when he feels the need to copy orders, they don’t. In fact, his squad makes fun of him, calls him Echo. He gets the nickname, he supposes, but he doesn’t quite understand why they tease him.

He knows because his brothers don’t always care about the rules like he does. They don’t care about routine like he does. They don’t care about unexpected change like he does.

He’s different. CT-21-0408 is different from his brothers, and he doesn’t understand why.

So he researches. Sometimes, if he gets done with his work early, he hides in his pod because it’s soundproof and he can turn the lights down so they stop humming, and he researches.

And when he finds an answer, he hides it from everyone, because having a word--it’s good but it’s dangerous. He doesn’t trust his squad yet, not really, not enough, and he doesn’t really trust El-Les or Bric, and he most certainly _does not_ trust the Kaminoans.

He thinks--he’s not certain, but he thinks--that he has autism.

And just having a word, a _reason_ to be different and to feel different, is kind of a relief. Even if he knows he’ll probably be decommissioned if the Kaminoans ever find out.

:::

He’s behind cover, next to 00-2010 who’s next to 4040. It’s only the beginning of the training exercise, and already everything is too loud. He hides a flinch when 4040 shouts, “You’re clear! You’re clear!”

782 runs out from behind the cover he’s found with 27-5555. “Cover fire!” he calls.

4040 successfully shoots down one of the droids in the tower, and the buzzing hurts 21-0408’s ears. Sensory overload, he thinks the phrase was, and he glances into the corner of his HUD and blinks a bit to turn output volume down just a little bit.

It doesn’t do much when 782 is just going after things with his Z-6.

“This is Command,” says the disembodied voice that decides what their objective is. 21-0408 puts his hand up to the side of his helmet, trying to listen through the shooting. “You must break through enemy lines and take the tower.”

He turns to 4040 and 00-2010. “Comlink just relayed orders from--”

4040 cuts him off with a glare. “We all heard the orders, Echo!”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Stop repeating every order!” 00-2010 retorts.

From his other side, 782 calls out, “Less yappin’, more blastin’!” 21-0408 thinks he might--hopefully--stop if he knew how much the yelling and the blasting hurt.

Then again, maybe not, since he lifts the rotary canon again and sweeps it across the droids in front of the tower. “Let’s smoke these chrome domes and move on to the Citadel!”

21-0408 isn’t sure it even matters--they’ve never been successful before, and he’s not sure they’re going to start now--and he wishes the noise would just stop. He’s starting to get a headache, and his ears hurt even though he keeps knocking his volume down.

“Cee-Tee-Seven-Eight-Two, you’re breaking formation!” he hiss-shouts, and even his own voice hurts his ears now.

“Just follow my lead, will ya?” And then he just starts moving forward.

21-0408 can’t stand this. There are formations for a _reason_ , and it’s loud, and--

“He’s clearing a path,” 00-2010 says to him. “I’m moving!” And then 00-2010 runs out from behind cover and starts helping 782, and okay, 21-0408 gets it, he does, because 782 has good aim and a _rotary blaster_ , but can’t they just… follow the rules?

He realizes too late that 00-2010 made a bad decision and is about to get hit.

27-5555 jumps out from behind his own cover to tackle 00-2010 before a droid can shoot him down.

“Thanks, Cee-Tee-Twenty-Seven-Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five,” 00-2010 says, and even that is loud to 21-0408’s ears. “That was close.”

 _Because you won’t just stay in formation_ , 21-0408 thinks, exasperated.

“It’s Fives,” 27-5555 growls. “The name is ‘Fives’!”

21-0408 isn’t sure they’re supposed to have names, at least not on Kamino, but he tries not to say anything, because that particular rule isn’t important right now.

(All the rules are always important, but he thinks they’ll just yell and fail faster if he brings it up.)

4040 jogs over, 21-0408 right behind him. “Five pieces,” 4040 teases, but 21-0408 thinks it might be a little malicious, “if you don’t keep your head down!”

“How about we follow orders?” 21-0408 says. “This is our last practice test!”

“Will you _shut up_ with instructions!?” 4040 argues. “You’re _not_ in charge!”

21-0408 knows that, but he thinks things might go a bit smoother if he were. Except no one is really supposed to be “in charge”, so it would be against the rules, so… he’s not really sure what to say to that, actually.

782 is blazing on ahead without them.

Why can’t they just _follow orders_?

The four of them, minus 782, stay behind the same cover for about thirty seconds before 4040 growls. “I can’t hit anything from here!” he exclaims, and runs out from their hiding spot.

“No!” 21-0408 calls after him. “We have to follow orders!”

He might be getting a little repetitive even for himself, he thinks as he and 27-5555 step out from behind cover after him.

And then he gets hit in the shoulder, and lands flat on his back. He cries out in surprise.

That does _not_ help with his headache.

At least now he’s down. He doesn’t have to do anything. He shuts the volume in his helmet off completely and simply watches as 782, facing one direction with his Z-6, is shot in the back by a pair of SBDs.

27-5555 and 4040 stay behind cover, and 21-0408 thinks they might be arguing based on their body language and distinct lack of actually shooting anything, until 4040 gets a droid that comes up behind 27-5555--and then they’re both shot by another droid that came up behind 4040, and it was pointless, anyway.

00-2010 gives up immediately thereafter, and 21-0408 can’t blame him. They’ve failed, anyway.

The Togrutan general’s voice comes over the speakers, muffled severely by 21-0408’s helmet now that the volume is off, but he thinks she might be ending the exercise and starting cleanup. He staggers to his feet and follows his squad out of the training room.

“We almost had it this time,” he tells 4040 as they pass 99. He’s not sure he believes it himself, but maybe saying it out loud will make it true next time.

“Oh, yeah,” 4040 agrees, “and we all look nothing alike, either.”

21-0408 doesn’t understand for a moment. They _do_ look alike. They’re clones!

He runs the statement through his head again and realizes it must be sarcasm.

782’s voice carries from behind them. “Sorry about the mess, Ninety-Nine.”

Sometimes, his own voice is too much, and sometimes it’s only other people’s voices, and sometimes it’s only the people talking _around_ him, and 21-0408 doesn’t understand what the difference is or why it changes, but 782 is too loud even though 4040 wasn’t.

“It’s okay, boys,” 99 replies. “Nice try.”

99’s voice, he thinks, is the only one that can never be too much.

:::

For the first half-hour after training, 21-0408 is in his pod, closed and with all the lights off. He hasn’t even stripped out of his armor, because despite how it makes his blacks press harder against his skin, the weight of it is soothing.

Only when the headache subsides and he thinks he can stand the lights of the barracks does he open his pod again and slide down the ladder.

782 is gone, and neither 00-2010 nor 4040 seem to even notice him, but, to his credit, 27-5555 eyes him with a little bit of concern. He says nothing, though, and 21-0408 is grateful for that. He’s not sure he wants to talk out loud, right now.

21-0408 goes to sit on a bench between sets of lockers, preparing to strip out of his armor and change into the red tunics of almost-graduates, when 782 returns and throws his helmet down. It rolls to a stop at 99’s feet.

“You know,” 99 says, “you shouldn’t worry, because most clones pass.” He stoops to pick up the helmet.

“Yeah, but not all of us,” 782 retorts, but there’s something soft in his gaze, 21-0408 isn’t quite sure what. “Right, shorty?” 782 pats 99’s head.

99 looks down, and 21-0408 is suddenly upset. 99 never even really had a chance, did he? The shorter clone turns away, and he’s clearly unhappy.

So 21-0408 does what he’s best at: urges his squadmates to follow orders. His voice trails up the ladder after 00-2010.

“I dunno,” 4040 says, “I think it went rather well.”

Sarcasm again, 21-0408 thinks.

“Quit joking around!” 27-5555 bites back, jabbing a finger across the ladder in 4040’s direction.

“Can we _please_ stop arguing?” 00-2010 begs from his spot on the ladder.

21-0408 regrets saying anything, because everything is buzzing again and he didn’t give himself enough time for the overload to go away and it’s just _loud_ and _bright_ and--

“Can you stop being _droid bait_ out there?” 782 snarls, glaring up at the bottom of the ladder. “You’re getting in my way!”

“Actually,” 27-5555 butts in again, “our way.” He says it too softly, and it’s weird for him to agree with 782, even in such a roundabout way. 21-0408 doesn’t like it much.

“Well, you want to be the best, then you got to think like it,” 782 says, ignoring 27-5555. “ _I’m_ thinking like an ARC trooper!”

21-0408 is so tired of this. “ARC troopers,” he shoots back, “follow _orders_.”

“Care to repeat that, _Echo_?”

They glare at each other for all of a second before 21-0408 goes to shove past 782.

782 grabs at 21-0408’s arm and swings, and then they’re fighting, and 4040, 00-2010, and 27-5555 are shouting and 21-0408 isn’t sure but he thinks they’re all rooting for 782 and it’s loud and everything hurts and he just wants them to want _him too_ \--

Bric breaks them up almost as quickly as the fight started. “Cut it out!” he orders.

And, well, 21-0408 can follow orders.

He doesn’t like the next bit as much, though, however true it is.

“If you two would focus on fighting droids as much as you do fighting each other, you might stand a chance out there!”

“Sorry, Master Chief,” 21-0408 says, and he folds in on himself a little, because he’s used to having his brothers angry and annoyed with him, but it’s an entirely different feeling for the trainers to be angry, and it hurts more than he thinks it should. He feels more like a failure than he thinks Bric meant--except it’s Bric, so who really knows?

782 speaks up. “Well, _Master Chief_ ,” and even 21-0408 can hear the sarcasm dripping from the honorific, “maybe our problems come from our training.”

He did _not_ just say that. Did he?

“I’d rather be taught by a Jedi than some mercenary bounty hunter.”

Yes. Yes, he did.

21-0408 can’t help the way he shrinks in on himself even more.

“Jedi don’t have the time to train grunts like you,” Bric says back, steely cool, shoving at 782 with one hand. “That’s why they hired me!”

Something about the way he says it has 00-2010, 27-5555, and 4040 scrambling down from their pods, lining up almost at attention.

“Listen, boys,” Bric tells them, sneering, “when you were assigned to me, I had high hopes for you! Now we’re approaching the end of your training, and you haven’t advanced nearly enough. Even this bad batcher, Ninety-Nine, has more sense than you guys do, and he’s a maintenance clone.” His words are derisive, and 99, who apparently held on to 782’s helmet, seems downcast again.

“You-you don’t give them enough credit,” 99 says, not looking Bric in the eye.

“You’re all a waste of my time.”

21-0408 has never been so angry with Bric, or his squadmates, but doing something about it is too much right now, so after 00-2010 stops 782 from going after Bric, 21-0408 changes and clambers back into his pod, small and dark and quiet and safe.

:::

The hangar bay is dark and it’s loud, like so many things seem to be these days (sometimes, 21-0408 just wishes he could float in the vacuum of space, where no sound can reach him), but at least he’s not overloaded right now. The rain lashes just outside, and the bay itself is damp with mist. Their class stands at attention, organized in squads, and 21-0408 wonders what, exactly, they’re doing here when they should be preparing for the final training test. He’s also itching to speak--as much as he craves silence, he hates _being_ silent, hates the lack of vibration in his vocal cords.

A gunship lands, and 21-0408 knows the sound of clone troopers in full kit when he hears it. Four ARCs come around from behind them, and line up facing their class with their backs to the wind outside.

Another gunship swoops in, and Bric shouts--to be heard over the din, or because he likes to shout, 21-0408 isn’t sure. “Gentlemen!” he calls. “Who wants to be an ARC trooper!?”

“I do, sir!” the class says in response, four squads of five men each yelling right back and stamping a foot in time.

“You have to pass your final test first!” Bric acknowledges.

21-0408 thinks they have to do a lot more than that to officially become ARC, but he’s not about to argue.

“I want you to meet Commander Colt of the Rancor Battalion!”

The ARC who steps forward has red painted onto one of his pauldrons. He’s wearing a bucket 21-0408 hasn’t seen before, and he thinks it might be one of the new Phase II helmets. Only ARCs have those so far, he supposes. It has a fin, like the Phase I helmets, but the shape near the chin is different. A new air filtration device, perhaps?

And then 21-0408 realizes Colt is speaking.

“--remember, we’re shoulder-to-shoulder on those front lines. Brothers! And sometimes we may quarrel--” ( _He’s certainly right about that_ , 21-0408 thinks, and wishes he could speak) “--but no matter what, we are united.” He emphasises his point with a fist. “Rule one: We fight together! So, who’s ready to step up first?”

21-0408 desperately hopes he doesn’t choose Domino Squad.

“Let’s start with the unit that ran the practice test in record time. ARC trooper time!”

21-0408 can’t take it anymore. He _has_ to talk. “Think he means us, boys?” he mutters to his squad. He can feel their eyes on him.

“Bravo Unit! Step up.”

The squad next to theirs steps forward, synchronous as a squad should be.

“Well,” 21-0408 jibes, “bravo for Bravo Squad!”

“Show an ARC trooper how it’s done.”

Bravo Squad places their helmets on their heads, still moving as one, and 21-0408 has to admit that he feels more than just a twinge of jealousy. It’s so _pretty_ , how the move.

“Come on, boys,” 21-0408 says as Bravo files out of the hangar bay, “maybe we can learn something!”

“Shut up, Echo,” 782 replies.

And, well, maybe it was too much to hope he was actually funny.

They follow the other three squads, led by Bravo, to the training room.

Unsurprisingly, Bravo does well. 21-0408 knew they would. It’s like they can read each other’s minds. _Or they just follow orders_ , an unhelpful voice in his head grumbles.

“We’re better than these guys,” 27-5555 says, gesturing down into the training room.

They all know that’s false.

They all choose not to believe that it’s false.

Domino watches as a couple members of Bravo Squad break through enemy lines and ascend the tower. When one cadet’s ascension cable fires, 00-2010 exclaims, “He’s gonna make it!”

As if Domino isn’t the only squad that hasn’t yet.

And then Bravo Squad actually pulls the flag from the tower, and it’s Domino’s turn.

21-0408 swallows, and something flutters in his stomach. This is it.

“We can do this, guys,” 782 assures.

“All we have to do is follow orders,” 21-0408 agrees.

No one says anything this time, so he thinks it might actually work.

As they walk into the training room, Bravo is walking out. The fluttering in 21-0408’s stomach gets stronger.

“Check it out, guys,” one of the other cadets jibes. “Time to watch the Dominos fall.”

21-0408 stiffens, and he thinks the others might as well.

“They are _so_ much better than us,” 4040 groans.

“Knock it off!” 27-5555 is something--confident? Or arrogant? Maybe cocky? It’s like he refuses to accept what everyone else has figured out--even if they do succeed this time, it won’t be better than Bravo Squad.

More fluttering.

As soon as the training test begins, 782 is firing into the ranks of droids, 27-5555 right behind him, leaving the other three to follow--but at least they’re getting farther than normal, 21-0408 thinks, taking down a droid from over 4040’s shoulder.

782 and 27-5555 flank, allowing 21-0408, 4040, and 00-2010 to pull up in front of them and find cover. 27-5555 and 782 follow the leapfrog pattern, and 27-5555 stops next to 21-0408.

“I’ll flank left,” he suggests, “you flank right!”

“Take it easy,” 21-0408 jokes against the ever-increasing fluttering, “I’m on your side! Get it? Your side!”

27-5555 shakes his head and takes off, while 21-0408 stays behind his cover and makes an effort to shoot down any droids that might get in his way.

00-2010 gets shot down first, which was almost inevitable, 21-0408 thinks.

“Droidbait,” 4040 warns, “behind you!” But the warning comes too late, and 00-2010 is knocked over by the stun shot. 4040 takes out the droid that got 00-2010. “Man down!”

“Forget him!” 782 commands. “I’m breaking for the Citadel!”

And, well, 21-0408 thinks that’s where it all goes wrong.

He and 27-5555 follow after 782, but 4040 doesn’t catch up with them. He stays by 00-2010’s side.

“Hurry!” 27-5555 calls out, beckoning.

“Guys,” 4040 says, “I think he’s injured!” One of his hands hovers over 21-0408’s shoulder.

“Leave him!” 27-5555 orders, and he and 782 take off, leaving 21-0408 hanging behind for just a moment before following.

4040 hesitates, then jogs after his squadmates. He grins and says, “We’re gonna pass this time!”

The droids shut down as soon as he says it.

“Okay,” he corrects, “I spoke too soon.”

21-0408 can’t help the sudden shame that replaces the fluttering in his gut. Shame, at least, is an emotion he knows well.

“That would be putting it mildly,” Colt says from behind them. Domino turns around to face him. “Broke formation, disobeyed orders, and you left a man behind! You broke rule number one.”

“I’m sorry, Domino Squad,” El-Les speaks up from his place next to Colt. “This is an automatic failure.”

21-0408, 782, and 27-5555 share a disappointed look.

:::

21-0408 mopes in his pod, lights down, datapad in hand. Ever since learning about autism, he’s been a little bit--obsessed, he thinks? It doesn’t take up his every waking thought, but if he’s not busy with classes or training, then he’s probably researching the disorder. He’s fallen into a rabbit hole of sorts more than once; this, he thinks, is more pronounced when he’s upset. Research is calming.

 _Echolalia_. The word catches in the corner of his eye, and his mind is drawn from the top of the page to the available link.

He drags his attention back up, telling himself he’ll read more when he gets there, but finds that--unsurprisingly--he can’t focus.

He follows the link.

“ _ **Echolalia** is the unsolicited repetition of vocalizations made by another person (when repeated by the same person, it is called palilalia). In its profound form it is automatic and effortless._”

And, well, that sounds familiar.

“ _Echolalia occurs in many cases of autism spectrum disorder and Tourette syndrome_.”

21-0408 hasn’t heard of Tourette syndrome, and he makes a note in the back of his mind to learn more about it later, but he’s surprisingly enthralled in this article. The similarities aren’t perfect, but they’re there.

“ _Researchers further distinguished immediate echos by the sequential context in which they occur: after corrections, after directives, or in indiscernible sequential positions_.”

Boy, does 21-0408 echo directives.

Echo.

Slowly, then all at once, the mocking nickname his squadmates gave him takes on a new meaning.

Echo. He can take that. He can _do_ something with it.

They failed the final test, so it’s not like there’s any reason for the longnecks to care if he takes on a nickname now.

He opens his pod, sets down the datapad, and slides down the ladder, past 27-5555 (Fives, he thinks to himself, because it’s a change and it feels weird but if he’s going to use his nickname, he’ll use everyone else’s, too).

“Twenty-One-Zero-Four-Zero-Eight!” Fives calls after him, and follows him down. “Wait up.”

Echo (Echo!) pauses. “What’s going on, Fives?”

Fives stops short, peering at Echo with narrowed eyes. “You okay, brother? You hate the nicknames.”

Echo shrugs. “The longnecks will accept anything to decommission us for being different,” he says, and the words are dark but his voice is light. “But if they’ve agreed to make us janitorial squad, well, no reason to avoid names anymore, is there?”

Fives’s gaze doesn’t let up for almost half a minute. Then, he nods. “Not sure what’s gotten into you, Twenty-One-Zero-Four-Zero-Eight, but I’ll take it if it means you call me Fives.”

“Echo,” he corrects. (Echo!)

The uncertain look is back. “Echo,” Fives repeats.

Echo tries not to laugh at the irony. “My name is Echo.”

Fives leans back against the ladder, contemplating again. “Fine. Not sure who you are or what you’ve done with my brother, but fine.”

Echo doesn’t catch the sarcasm for a moment. “It’s me,” he says, and feels his eyebrows furrow.

“No, it’s a figure of speech, Echo.” Fives breaks into a grin. “But if I were concerned, that would have been exactly the right response.” He reaches out to clap his brother on the shoulder, and Echo almost beams at him. “Anyway, I was going to ask,” and he casts his eyes around the barracks to make sure no one is listening, and drops his voice, “do you want to come talk to the General with me? See if we can be reassigned?”

Echo isn’t sure how he feels about that. He’s already preparing himself for janitorial duty, the rain-lashed decks of Kamino the most _outside_ his world ever gets, but… Fives is the one asking, and even though he’s never really been as close with his brothers as he would like, Fives has always been the closest.

He nods.

:::

“General,” Echo says as the door slides closed behind them, “may we have a word?”

Without turning to face them, she responds, “You are here to discuss your squad, aren’t you?”

Fives takes a step forward. “How did you--?”

“Ah, Jedi, mate,” Echo cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder.

The Togrutan general turns to face them. “One doesn’t need to be a Jedi to feel the stress on your mind.”

Echo isn’t sure he quite agrees with that, but then, he’s never been good at identifying his own emotions, let alone those of the people around him.

“General,” he says instead of voicing his dissent, “we would like to request a transfer to another squad.”

“Bravo Squad, perhaps,” Fives cuts in, and Echo gives him a bit of a look, because although he doesn’t disagree, his brother might be just a little too eager to request a specific squad. Especially the best squad in their class.

“I am a Jedi,” the general says, and gestures to herself, “where the individual and the group are one and the same. Much like you clones.”

Echo sees an opportunity and takes it. “Which is why Fives and I are looking out for each other.”

“As individuals,” the Jedi points out, “but not as a group. You are where you need to be. Solve your problems as a whole, not as individuals.” Her voice brightens, then: “I have decided to allow you and the rest of your squad to take the test again tomorrow.” She turns away, a clear dismissal.

Echo and Fives share another glance, and Fives has a look Echo can’t quite decipher on his face.

:::

Echo and Fives are sitting on the floor of the barracks playing sabacc with 00-2010--Droidbait, Echo reminds himself, he had said he actually thought it was kind of funny--when 4040 settles next to them, an arm wrapped around his stomach and his face artificially blank.

“You okay, _vod_?” Fives asks.

“Fine,” 4040 says. “Deal me in?”

“Only if you tell us what’s going on, Forty-Forty,” Droidbait says, grabbing the cards and pulling them out of their squadmate’s reach.

“The name’s ‘Cutup’ now, brother,” 4040 says, and entirely avoids any actual explanation.

“Do I need to take you to the medbay, Cutup?” Echo asks. He lays his cards face-down on the floor.

Cutup chuckles, then winces, then realizes something and gives Echo a look. “You said my name.”

“It hurt you to laugh,” Fives retorts easily. “Come on, brother. Spill it. We can talk about Echo acting strange later.”

Echo doesn’t really think he’s acting strange, just… different.

“Bric,” Cutup says. It’s all he says, and the game is getting a little old now.

“Reportable?” Droidbait asks.

“Punching me in the gut reportable?”

The other three exchange a worried look.

“We’re taking the test again tomorrow, _vod_ ,” Echo says. “Will you be alright for that?”

“I could take it on right now.”

He can’t, and they all know it, but they’re not taking the test right now anyway, so unless he has issues tomorrow, Echo won’t worry about it.

“We gonna talk about Echo using names now?” Cutup asks.

Echo gives him what he thinks is a mischievous look before returning to his cards. “If we pass tomorrow.”

“Boring. Deal me in,” he adds to Droidbait.

After twenty minutes or so, 782 joins them, and they play like that until almost lights out, and no one even makes fun of Echo when he repeats something.

:::

“Hey,” Fives says, “where’s Cee-Tee-Seven-Eighty-Two?”

They’re in their practice armor, him and Echo and Cutup and Droidbait, and should be leaving for the test… well, now, really.

“Yeah, where is Cee-Tee-Seven-Eight-Two?” He repeats it before he even realizes he’s done it, and there’s a part of him that draws back shamefully, but another that’s almost proud, now that he has a word for it.

“If he is not here,” Droidbait says, standing up from his spot on the bench, “we will fail!”

“Not today, brothers,” says a voice from behind them, and they all turn to see 782 walking up with his Z-6 on his shoulder. “Today, we pass.”

And it’s like they’re all on the same page.

782 walks through their group “And one more thing!” he adds over his shoulder. “The name’s ‘Hevy’.”

 _Hevy_. Echo tries it out. He knew Cutup called him that, and maybe Fives, but Hevy had never really accepted it.

Until now.

He shares a glance and a shrug with Droidbait and makes to follow Hevy to the training room.

:::

“Orders came in clear, mates,” Echo says. Domino Squad is on the lift into the training room, and the fluttering in his stomach is back, but with it is something more pleasant he can’t identify. Confidence, maybe?

“Nothing to repeat, Echo?” Cutup asks.

“Not today.”

“How’s that shoulder treating you?” Hevy says. Echo thinks he’s talking to Droidbait.

“I’ll live,” Droidbait says brightly.

Fives brings down the mood a little bit. “We all know what we have to do.” His tone is serious, but, well, he’s not wrong, is he?

The trapdoor opens above them, blinding them for just a moment as they rise up out of the ground.

They move as one, and it’s the most coordinated with his brothers Echo has ever felt.

He has a thought, when Droidbait shoots down a commando droid atop a tower on the side of the training room, that the droids are Droidbait bait. He chuckles to himself, and takes up his own position, firing into the ranks of clankers.

When Hevy takes cover, the rest of them follow, and Hevy grins encouragingly. “That’s it, boys. Stay together!” 

“Fives, on your left.”

Fives turns on a dime and shoots the SBD that’s risen up out of the floor and is taking aim at them. “Thanks, Cutup!” he exclaims.

“No problem, brother.”

They stay behind cover for a moment longer, catch their breath, and then Hevy gives them a hand signal, and they’re off again.

They’re _doing it_.

They meet up behind cover again, and Droidbait, Fives, and Echo stay standing, firing at the droids still ahead of them.

“Keep it up,” Droidbait calls. “We’re doing great!”

“We might actually pass,” Cutup says from his spot beside Droidbait.

“Not so fast,” Hevy warns, but it’s not pessimistic. “Still got the Citadel!”

And then they’re moving again, right up to the Citadel tower, between the ground supports so they can find cover. Cutup tucks himself in next to Echo.

“All right, prep the ascension cables,” Droidbait says. “Let’s scale this thing.”

Everyone’s hands go to their hips, and everyone comes up empty.

“Wait a tick,” Hevy says, “where are the cables?”

Echo can tell that the emotion in Hevy’s voice is panic, because he feels it too.

“They’re not on our belts,” Cutup says. “Just when things seemed easy.”

“Well, we can’t scale the face without them!” Droidbait complains. “We’ll fail the test if we can’t finish!”

They were actually _doing it_ , too. They were going to pass! “So this is it,” he says, because he can feel that second emotion from earlier start to dissipate.

“Not exactly,” Hevy disagrees. “Those guns up there,” and he gestures with his head to the face of the tower, “we can use them as a step to the next level, form a chain, and use each other to scale this face.”

“Use the guns?” Cutup asks incredulously. “Are you _crazy_?”

“Trust me, I _know_ weapons!”

No one really has much to say to that, seeing as Hevy is their heavy gunner and all.

Droidbait catches their attention again. “I’m gonna draw their fire. You guys blast ‘em!” He runs out from his cover, drawing the heavy guns on the face of the tower to aim at him and leaving the other four free to disable the weapons.

And then they’re moving again, climbing up the face of the tower. Echo is the first to leap up and use the guns to climb, dropping his own weapon below him to free up his hands. And it’s Echo who gets to the top of the tower first, Echo who runs up the stairs.

Echo who grabs the flag and turns it from red to green.

He whoops, and his brothers come up to surround him, cheering. “We did it!” someone exclaims. “I knew we could do it, boys!” says another.

:::

Their “graduation” is short and simple. They stand at attention in their red cadet uniforms while El-Les and Bric pin medals to their chests. 99 watches them, off to the side.No one says much of anything until El-Les speaks, telling them, “Congratulations. You’ve graduated. At ease.”

Domino Squad relaxes, sharing looks with each other, pride and just the tiniest bit of joy.

Echo claps Cutup on the shoulder. “Next stop, ARC trooper!”

“Yeah, how ‘bout we face some combat first?” Cutup says dryly. He turns to follow Fives out of the barracks, to the mess, and Echo follows him.

:::

The barracks are dark, but Echo thinks his brothers probably haven’t fallen asleep yet. They’ve just received their orders, and while most of them will be going to the outpost on the Rishi moon, Fives isn’t going with them. Tomorrow is sure to be busy, and Echo doesn’t know when (or even if, although he shoves that thought away) he’ll have his whole squad together again. He opens his pod and slips out, knocking at the end of each of Domino Squad’s pods in turn.

Hevy is the first to open his pod back up. “What is it, Echo?” he asks, and swings his legs over the side.

Fives, Droidbait, and Cutup all open their pods, and none of them is bleary-eyed in the slightest, so Echo doesn’t feel guilty.

“I want to tell you all something,” he replies, keeping his voice down.

“Yeah, sure,” Fives says, and slides down the ladder to drop on the floor next to Echo. “You okay, _vod_?”

Cutup follows Fives, and Droidbait follows him, leaving Hevy last to land on the metallic floor with a soft _thud_.

“Yeah,” Echo says, “I just wanted to tell you something. Promise you won’t tell anyone else,” he adds.

Cutup and Droidbait share a look.

“You aren’t caught up in spice deals, are you, brother?” Hevy asks.

Echo tilts his head.

“A joke,” Fives murmurs, leaning his head in close to Echo’s ear.

“Oh,” Echo breathes, and gives Hevy a grin. “No. But I do have something to say.”

“You’ve said that three times, Echo,” Cutup points out. “What is it?”

The problem is, until the last 36 hours or so, Echo hasn’t really trusted even his squad. He never expected to say this out loud, and he doesn’t know how.

“Take your time,” Cutup adds at an elbow from Droidbait. “But we know you’re telling us something.”

Echo sticks his tongue out at his brother, and Droidbait laughs outright.

After more jibing and teasing, Echo finally relaxes, really and truly relaxes.

“I think I’m autistic.”

His brothers look at each other, and look at him, and back and forth once or twice more.

“I don’t know what that means, _vod_ ,” Hevy admits after a moment.

“It’s a--a developmental disorder,” Echo explains, and suddenly he’s nervous again. “It’s part of why I like the regs and formations so much, and why I’m so bad at telling when you’re joking or knowing when I’m allowed to make jokes. It’s why sometimes I shut the volume off on my HUD or lock myself in my pod, because otherwise everything around me feels too loud. And I think it’s why I echo things, too.”

They all stare at him, and then they keep staring, silent, processing, and Echo is starting to feel afraid that one of them is going to call the Kaminoans in to decommission him right now and--

Fives pulls him in to his side and wraps his arms around him tight. Then Cutup, then Hevy, and Droidbait wraps his own arms around the whole group so that they’re surrounding Echo in their warmth and weight and safety.

:::

Their class and a few others are armored up in brand new kit, Phase I, clean and pristine white. They stand at attention, and General Shaak Ti faces them.

“Today is your graduation,” she says. “From here, you ship out to fight against the Separatists and restore peace to the Republic. Congratulations! You are no longer cadets. You are troopers. May the Force be with you.”

When the general finishes speaking, she steps aside, and one of the ARC troopers from just a few days ago--not Colt, because Colt wears red and this trooper wears yellow--takes her place. “Attention!” he shouts. “Helmets on!”

Together, a hundred or two hundred troopers who have just finished training put on their helmets for the first time.

Another ARC trooper turns a crisp about-face and leads them up into the ship about to take them to all corners of the galaxy. They step off, and the sound of hundreds of troopers marching in time has always been of some comfort to Echo.

He doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring. It will be loud, he’s almost certain of it (everything is loud, after all), and he doesn’t look forward to change.

But he knows who he is, and he has his brothers by his side to love and protect and support him.

He smiles under his helmet and marches through the rare Kamino sunlight.

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of the information on echolalia in the scene where Echo first learns about it is directly quoted from [the Wikipedia article](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Echolalia#Associated_disorders).
> 
> Additionally, if you liked this, please send in some neurodivergent clone trooper headcanons or prompts for autistic Echo. I am LIVING for neurodivergent clones. You can leave a comment or send an ask to my writing tumblr, [Ver Writes Things](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ver-writes-things).
> 
> And last but not least, there's only one word of Mando'a in here and it's pretty common in Clone Wars fic, but if you've never heard it before, _vod_ means brother!


End file.
